The Unlikely Friend
by fishcatfishcat
Summary: Teen!lock Sherlock is a school student and John is a new class member. It seems despite Sherlock's unpopularity, John wants to be his friend, where will this lead? Rated T just in case
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1: Back to School**

Sherlock tapped his pen against the fake wood finish of his work desk. The classroom was filled with the buzz of reunited students. The summer holidays were over and even though they had all seen each other during their break, they still felt it necessary to pretend like they hadn't. Friends hugged and chatted and laughed.

From the back of the classroom Sherlock could see everything, how he liked it. He saw every text a student sent and every glance of paranoia aimed at him. He knew nobody liked him sitting there. He knew everybody was puzzled and slightly intimidated by him. Why wouldn't they be? The boy with the curly black hair with perfect grades whose eyes you could feel boring into the back of your skull. It was the silence that they all couldn't stand. No, it was that he only seemed to talk when he was correcting a teacher. Or dissecting something.

Miss Adler walked into the classroom, her ruby heels click-clacking on the polished tile floor. She wore a black dress with white spots that cut off just below the knee, it was sharp and smart, conforming around her curves. Though she had been with her class for a year, her sexiness still shocked a lot of the pubescent teenage boys. Sherlock being the only one who, while recognizing her looks, didn't just see her as the 'hot teacher'.

"Okay everyone, I hope you had a fun holiday but we're back in school now." she called as the loud prattling died down, "There's a new student in the class, he's just in the reception, he'll be here in a minute."

Sherlock noted all the chairs in the room were occupied besides the one next to him. Well, that's a goodbye to his solitude. He sighed as he leant back. The first day back to school always annoyed him with its tedium. Every week on a Monday the school is taught P.S.E (Personal, Social Education) which is just a fancy way of saying they're being told not to do drugs for an hour. It was gruelling and boring to Sherlock, but he knew that once today was over a routine would form.

The door swung open and in stepped the new student. He had short golden hair, combed neatly to the side and thick rimmed glasses. His school uniform was neat, his trousers pressed, his tie straight and his shoes polished. A teacher's wet dream. Sherlock knew that the other students didn't like it when people wore their uniform correctly. Most of them had one or two buttons undone, and all of their ties were loose. The new boy would get away with it, as it's his first day, but if he continued dressing so smart he would find himself being openly mocked.

"Jonathan, right?" Miss Adler asked from her desk.

"John," he corrected, his eyes surveying the room.

"Well, take a seat. I think the last one is next to..." she said, craning her neck.

"The freak," a student coughed, stifling laughter.

"Sally, come on, we've only just got back, can you give it a rest this year, please?" Miss Adler groaned.

"Her opinion means nothing to me, it's fine Miss," Sherlock called to his teacher, taking the other students by surprise. Usually he would have just kept quiet but in that second he decided he wouldn't take another year of snide comments. Though he was sure she had muttered something under her breath, Sally remained quiet.

Miss Adler began her speech as John dumped his bag under the desk and sat next to Sherlock. He had a smirk, Sherlock assumed it was because of what he had said to Sally.

"I'm Sherlock," he found himself saying.

"John, but you know that anyway," John said cheerfully.

Sherlock smiled and tried to think of an appropriate response. Both of them sat in silence, neither of them listening to Miss Adler.

"At break time do you mind if I follow you? I don't know anybody here, maybe introduce me to some of your friends?" John asked.

"Sure, but the only person who hasn't expressed their dislike for me, you already know," Sherlock explained.

"Oh, who's that?" John asked.

"You."

"Am I interrupting?" Miss Adler asked, making the heads of the students turn to look at the two boys. Each not believing that Sherlock of all people was talking while the teacher was. John looked in wide-eyed shock. These people looking at him said they don't like Sherlock.

"Sorry, Miss," John said, finally.

"You can get to know each other at break, that's what it's for," Miss Adler said, as surprised as the others that Sherlock may be making a friend.

* * *

"You're risking whatever social status you intend to have by sitting with me, you know," Sherlock said as he and John sat at their own table in the school cafeteria. It was so crowded that nobody seemed to noticed the new boy sitting next to Sherlock, meaning it wasn't too late for John to move, he assumed John was like the others in that he cared what others thought.

"As far as I can tell I wouldn't want to waste my time on them," John said, poking the chips on his plate with his fork. Sherlock noticed he hadn't eaten anything, he'd just played. Something must have happened fourth period, when they were in separate classes.

"Are you all right?" Sherlock asked, not sure how to go about potential sensitive areas.

"Hm?" John's head shot up, like he was being snapped out of a trance.

"I was asking if you're all right," Sherlock repeated.

"Oh yeah, sorry I was in my own world," John said with a playful tone.

"So...?" Sherlock asked, growing more concerned.

"I'm fine, are you always like this?" John asked with a chuckle.

Sherlock continued to eat his sandwich while John stabbed the occasional chip. The lack of conversation dragged on until the bell rang for last period. Sherlock could tell something was wrong. He had intended to observe John during their last period, but they each had different subjects.

"Spanish is in here, right?" John asked as the corridor stopped at a dead end and you could either turn right or left.

"Yes, it's that room," Sherlock said, still trying to figure him out.

"Okay, well, see you later," John said as the final bell rang.

"Bye," Sherlock said, though John was already inside the classroom with the door closed behind him.

* * *

**A/N:** I wrote this without planning or anything. If people like it I'll write more and put more effort in. I don't know why but I imagine a teenage John wearing glasses. There's probably going to be swearing in future chapters. Yeah, any questions or suggestions message me also please review, thanks.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2: Osmosis**

Ms Hooper walked past the work benches, handing out the equipment needed for the day's experiment. It was the beginning of the science module on osmosis and she knew that the experiment she was going to conduct today was a fun way to start things off.

Sherlock received his tray from Ms Hooper with a smile. If he dealt with favourite teachers she would be his. She recognized his enthusiasm for science but didn't make a spectacle of it. When other teachers in St. Bartholomew's Comprehensive School noticed how Sherlock tended to put his head down and get on with his work, they'd use him as a role model for the other students. Since then the mocking and joking had persisted. Surely they had better things to do with their time.

"Sorry I'm late, Miss," John said from behind Ms Hooper.

"That's fine, I haven't-" she said, turning around, "Oh, I've never seen you before. You must be new. I haven't taken the register yet, so do you want to go sit down? I'm about to begin."

"Yes, Miss," he said, sitting on a stool beside Sherlock.

Ms Hooper walked to her desk and sat behind the computer and pulled up the class register. She called out the names, getting a dreary "here, Miss," in reply from all of the students. Finally she called out John's name, to which she got a slightly-too-enthusiastic "here!".

"Someone's excited," Sherlock teased.

"What's all this for?" asked John, dismissing Sherlock's comment as he stared at a potato, a scalpel, a few beakers, a bottle of squash and an odd metal tube that were all sitting on their desk.

"She's going to explain, but I can instead if you'd like me to," Sherlock suggested.

"Sure, go ahead,"

"We're going to be using the cork borer to extract some potato, then we'll be putting samples in beakers with different concentrations of squash. Later we'll weigh them and record the weight differences, if any," Sherlock explained.

"Will there be any?" John asked.

"How am I supposed to know?" Sherlock asked back, a sly grin on his face.

"You tell me," John replied, the same grin spreading across his.

Sherlock picked up the potato and handed it to John, along with the cork borer the size of a pencil.

"So I just stick it in?" John asked, setting the potato down on the work bench. He pressed the tube into the potato lightly, the skin being pierced when Sherlock grabbed John's wrist.

"What?" John asked, trying not to wince.

"You need to hold it down or it'll slip," Sherlock said.

"Really?" John asked in doubt, the potato looked pretty sturdy.

"When you put the borer through you'll see what I mean,"

"Okay..." John said, holding the potato with one hand while pushing the cork borer through with the other, not seeing why the extra care was necessary. He pulled it back out, leaving a hole in the potato, then used the poker to push the sample out of the tube. When he went to push the borer into the potato again, John noticed how much liquid had leaked out of the it. His hand definitely would have slipped if he hadn't have held it down. _Dammit, he was right, _John thought.

John continued to take samples of potato while Sherlock poured water into the beakers. He filled one with 100ml, the next with 75, the next with 50 and so on. He then filled the beakers with the appropriate amount of squash so that the five beakers had 100ml of liquid solution in each. He lined the beakers up, the one on the left a dark purple, pure squash, progressing weaker until the furthest right was clear with pure water.

When John was done with the cork borer the potato had so many holes it resembled a sponge. He lined up the pencil sized samples of potato he had collected on a paper towel so the water would get soaked up.

"So, what do we do now?" John asked Sherlock who was drawing up a table in his exercise book.

"We only needed one or two," Sherlock snickered, looking at the fifteen samples in front of him.

"What if thirteen of them weren't good enough?" John joked as Sherlock picked up the scalpel. He sliced one into five pieces.

"They're not equal, give me a go," John said, taking the scalpel.

"Careful John, it'd be terribly awkward having to explain why you sliced your ulnar artery,"

"Was that a threat?" John asked after a pause. He took one of the samples and cut along the length at four intervals. "See, perfect."

"We'll see," Sherlock said as he plugged in the electronic scales. They were extremely sensitive and could measure to a hundredth of a gram. John took one of his five pieces and placed it on the metal plate. 7.96g it read. The next measured that same. And the next two. He waited before putting down the final one, sharing a tense look with Sherlock, then both of them burst into laughter. 7.96g.

"Told you, perfect," John said, a little too smug.

Sherlock placed one of his on the plate. It read 8g.

"See John, I was aiming for eight grams," Sherlock said.

"Sure you were," John replied, sarcastically.

He looked in disbelief as the next three samples weighed exactly 8g. How could he do that? John would've had no idea what to say if he were to guess how much they weighed. Sherlock put the last sample on the metal plate. The numbers flicked between 8.00 and 8.01. They finally settled on 8.01g.

"Sorry Sherlock, looks like we have to use mine," John boasted, dropping a piece of potato in each beaker.

* * *

**A/N: **Maybe John's skill with a scalpel is more like Joan's character on Elementary, but oh well. I think it'd be fun seeing the two of them dissecting something, I know it'd be fun to write. I'm really grateful for what's been said about the story so far, so thanks a lot. That's probably the reason why I've updated it so quickly, despite how it's shorter than the previous chapter. Let me know what you think, everything I've written was improvised so if you have any ideas or suggestions then that'd be great. Thanks.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3: Mind Mansion**

Sherlock frowned at his notepad. On the next blank page he scrawled everything he knew about John. If he ever couldn't figure something out, he wrote down all the necessary information, then when he reread it he might pick up on something he'd overlooked. A method he had adopted a year ago, after he met Miss Adler.

Sherlock was sitting in his usual spot at the back of the classroom, waiting for the lesson to begin. Miss Adler strode into the classroom five minutes late. She had been the class' substitute teacher for three weeks, that being the beginning of her fourth week. She didn't look stressed, the way any late running teacher would, so Sherlock assumed she had been talking with the head master. It must've been about something good, by the way she was trying to hide a smile. He also noticed that she wasn't wearing her ID badge, which she had warn every day since her start. That could only mean that...

"...I'm going to stay on to be your full time English teacher," she announced, the students all looked thrilled and burst into an excited chatter. Sherlock suppressed a smug look, it took five seconds, maximum, for him to figure that out. All she had done was walk into the classroom.

"All right, can we keep it down?" Miss Adler called as she handed out sheets of paper. "The work I've set should be pretty easy going. On the paper, as you can see, is a piece of text advertising a theme park. I want you to analyse the persuasive devices used in the text and explain why they were used and how it would influence the reader into considering going to the theme park. Everybody understand?"

It was a simple way of saying that the class could spend the lesson messing around as long as they read a few lines. They had done work similar only a week ago, with a different advertisement. Nevertheless, Sherlock read the it and underlined certain words, writing notes in the margins. When he looked up, after five minutes, he saw he was the only person who not only had finished, but had started. Miss Adler was busy on her computer. With a heavy sigh Sherlock started deducing his fellow students, something that helped him pass the time, it was going to be a long hour.

* * *

"Go on, ask her, I dare you," Sherlock heard a boy ask Andy. Keeping his eyes fixed on his desk, he listened out for the reply.

"No, you do it," Andy replied, with nervous laughter.

"Come on, I dared you, you've got to," he replied, Sherlock saw him nudging Andy. The boy looked expectantly at Andy who was clearing his throat.

"Miss?" he asked.

"Yes," she replied, her focus remaining on her computer.

"Are you single?" he asked, keeping a straight face.

"Excuse me?" she asked, wheeling her chair away from the computer so she could stare him down. "Is it any of your business?"

"No, I..." Sherlock saw him struggle, as he saw Miss Adler struggle to maintain her cool, he had touched a nerve.

"Her availability is irrelevant and shouldn't rationally be of interest to you. Not only would it be illegal for her to have a relationship with you, but she'd have to overcome the desire to physically harm you, which she's doing a good job at so far. I wouldn't push it though, let's not risk both a concussion and her career," Sherlock interrupted, loud enough to be heard while maintaining a monotone.

"What did you just say?" Andy challenged as he turned to look at Sherlock.

"Enough!" Miss Adler bellowed, lowering her voice having had his attention, "I don't want to hear a word out of you, either of you, okay? I wanted this to be a nice relaxed lesson. I see you'd rather stay in silence. Get on with your work."

After the class had settled and only a low murmur of talking could be heard, the tension in the air dissipating, Miss Adler got up from her desk and walked to the back of the class. She sat on Sherlock's desk, her back to the class.

"Thanks," she said. He looked up at her, he could tell there was something she wasn't sure she should say.

"It was more for petty reasons I said what I said," Sherlock admitted, "but it wasn't his place to ask personal questions."

"How..." Sherlock saw a small smile on her face before she continued her question, "How did you know I was single?"

"The tan line," he stated, to which he got a puzzled look, "on your finger. A wedding ring has been removed recently. You can't have gotten that tan in the UK, even if you'd have sunbathed the entire length of the summer. You could have used a tanning machine, but that's not likely. Judging by the slight tone to your accent I'd say you've been used to speaking Spanish for some time. So it's not likely you were honeymooning. No, you were living there, right?"

She looked at him in stunned silence. Not of a word of it was false.

"How did you..." she began, he didn't look like he was playing a prank on her, "You can't just know."

"I don't know, I notice," he said, emphasizing both 'no' sounds, like it was his catchphrase.

"Go on, do it again," she asked, amused.

"You've not worn an item of clothing twice in the three weeks you've worked here, all of them brand new designer which I doubt you can afford. The money was probably from your ex-husband as a way of an apology, probably for having an affair, which is why you've spent it so quickly. You've incorporated red into your wardrobe most days, further supporting your availability, but you're not looking for a romance. More likely a one-night-"

"Okay, Sherlock, I get the picture. Well, since I _am_ the picture." Miss Adler interrupted him mid-flow.

"People often interpret my objectivity as personal insults," he said, blankly.

"You just need to be more sensitive," she said, giving him a friendly half-smile. As she walked back to her desk the bell rang for lunch. "Okay, everyone off you go. Andy, like I said to Sherlock, you need to be more sensitive."

The class filed out the door in a rush, Sherlock trailing behind.

"Sherlock, one thing," Miss Adler called as he reached the door.

"Yes, Miss," he replied as he turned back around.

"Your deduction wasn't one hundred percent accurate," she said, a challenging grin on her face.

"Oh," Sherlock said, the same grin on his face.

* * *

That night Sherlock sat at his desk with a newly bought notepad. His pen flew across the paper as it tried to catch up with his thoughts. It couldn't. So he had to take a minute to write what he had already thought, without thinking of something new to write. Something that required a lot of restraint. What had started as a blank page with the words 'Miss Adler' in a circle at the centre, was now filled with scribbles, some with lines connecting them.

Comfortable he had gotten everything down, he read what he had written. Everything he could remember that concerned Miss Adler. She had challenged him earlier, by telling him his deduction wasn't accurate. She knew he'd see it as a challenge, so he assumed nothing was off limits.

For hours Sherlock studied the page. Reading and rereading. Growing more and more frustrated. Occasionally a new observation would pop into his head, which satisfied him momentarily, but it wouldn't help him with his main problem. Everything he had deduced he deduced again, finding new ways to confirm his accuracy. Nothing seemed wrong. But he knew she hadn't been lying. Eventually he called it a night, finding out it was way past midnight.

* * *

"Miss," Sherlock began, standing at Miss Adler's classroom doorway, ten minutes early for his third period lesson, "what wasn't accurate about my deductions?"

"Some things I can't divulge to my students, not because I don't want to but because my job doesn't allow me to say such things," she answered.

"But you're friends with the head teacher, he wouldn't fire you for telling me something personal," Sherlock said, thinking his teacher was smart enough to know that, at least.

"How did you know I'm friends with him?" she asked before it dawned on her, "of course, you _noticed,_"

A silence followed where Sherlock wasn't sure he was going to get an answer. He saw her thinking, what could possibly be so bad that she could get the sack, or more likely a warning, for? Unless that wouldn't actually happen and she was in fact giving him a clue.

If she wasn't friends with the head master maybe things would be different. So perhaps it's something trivial about her, something a friend would accept. Something trivial that could get you in trouble if you shared it with your students? Suddenly, after remember a news paper article he had read several months back, it hit Sherlock.

"A woman, you were with a woman," he said, perhaps a little too loud. This snapped Miss Adler out of her trail of thought.

"Speak from your diaphragm, you project further that way," she retorted, sarcastically.

"Sorry," Sherlock mumbled.

"I'm joking," she said with a laugh, "well, you have five minutes left until break's over, that is unless you'd rather start your mock exam early."

"Yeah, sure," Sherlock said, walking into the classroom.

"That was a joke too, you know," she said, not sure whether to keep her smile or not.

"I know," Sherlock said, nonchalantly.

* * *

As Sherlock read and read the words he had written about John, knowing there was something he was missing, something John was hiding, he took a minute to think about it from a different angle. Maybe he shouldn't try so hard, that's not what normal people do. They don't consciously deduce things, they get a feel for a person. They don't notice something about a person because they like knowing things, they notice something because they care. Maybe that's why he hasn't noticed it yet. Maybe he should at least try to care. Like Miss Adler told him a year ago, _you just need to be more sensitive_. He needed to stop seeing John as a page in his notepad. Maybe John can teach him how to be a real person.

* * *

**A/N: **Sorry it took longer than the others and I'm sorry John isn't actually in this. I just thought a flashback thing would be cool. I haven't edited it to the extent I usually do because I'm leaving for London soon and I won't be back for a few days. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it, please leave reviews and suggestions (I'm still just winging it so any ideas on how the plot should develop would be cool). As for John's 'secret' we'll probably find out in one of the next few chapters, there are hints in the other chapters, though.


End file.
